


Just right

by TheAceMerperson



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining Enjolras, Vampire Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 00:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3228788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceMerperson/pseuds/TheAceMerperson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm fine. Just not particularly pleased all of my friends are being used like a buffet."<br/>Combeferre looks surprised.<br/>"We're all consenting to this, Enj. And you know that vampires can't satisfy their hunger very well with blood types that aren't compatible with them. He takes a little bit from all of us to compensate."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just right

**Author's Note:**

> 2 am Vampire AU's, oh boy.  
> I think this will become a thing in the future.  
> Mostly written to satisfy my itch in between other fic ideas. As my roommate says: "You can't go wrong with a happy exR Vampire fic."

Enjolras leaves the Musain right before it closes, thanking Musichetta for the coffee she gave him as he was walking out the door. If he's quick enough he might have enough time to stop by the farmer's market and pick up some of the homemade dumplings his favorite seller makes. It would prevent him from ordering takeout for the fifth night in a row.

He's walking back towards his block when he hears a garbled scream. And while reason tells him he shouldn't just rush into a dark alleyway without knowing what's in it, he's not a coward.  
  
There are two men behind one of the dumpsters. One is very young, with short straw-like hair and big chunky glasses and the other is pale and with a familiar mass of curly dark hair.  
  
"Grantaire?"  
  
The stranger turns and Enjolras takes a step back. His sleeve is rolled back, exposing a bleeding forearm that is pressed against Grantaire's mouth.  
  
"You know him? Oh thank god. I found him here, barely breathing. He was attacked I think and...well...I didn't know what else I could do to help."  
  
The young man sounds panicked and Enjolras nods to reassure him he did the right thing, even though he's not quite sure if it was the right thing to do.  
  
"I think he'll be fine now. But I have to...shit. I have to go register him. This is the second time this month." The blond vampire carefully licks up his arm to seal the wound and sighs, looking down at Grantaire. "You'll look after him, right?"  
  
"Yes. Make sure he's correctly registered."  
  
Enjolras quickly summarizes Grantaire's contact information and the man leaves. The alleyway is silent for a few minutes and then Grantaire's eyes flutter open.  
  
"Apollo."  
  
He should be mad that that horrible nickname is being used, really, but Grantaire was just turned and that's gotta be a good excuse for anything at this point. Enjolras sighs and crouches down in front of the artist. Any time now.  
  
Like clockwork, Grantaire's eyes widen and he spasms.  
  
"What just happened?"  
  
"You need your first human feed."  
  
The look of panic in Grantaire's unnaturally dilated pupils doesn't escape him and Enjolras quickly adds:  
  
"You were turned because you were very badly injured. I don't know why or by whom but we'll find that out later. You need to drink to complete the transformation now. I'm fine with you taking mine."  
  
"Enj, don't."  
  
"Do you see any other volunteers? Don't be ridiculous Grantaire."  
  
He moves forward and tilts his head to the side. Grantaire stills. Enjolras frowns and uses his hand to move his head forward. He feels rapid breathing against his collarbone and the pressure of Grantaire's nose at the junction of his neck and shoulder.  
  
"Grantaire, you're going to die if you don't drink." He hisses and apparently that's all it takes to get Grantaire to open his mouth and slide his lips against Enjolras' skin. It tickles.

He's mouthing clumsily at his neck, clearly still too out of it to let his instinct take over and Enjolras has to position his mouth over his pulse himself. The effect is immediate. The fangs sink in seamlessly into his flesh and Enjolras does his best not to give away anything of his reaction because Grantaire must be freaked out enough already.  
  
Grantaire is breathing heavily as he sucks and sucks and Enjolras it preparing himself for the inevitable dizziness and having to physically remove him from his neck but the fangs suddenly withdraw. Grantaire is panting, his mouth bloody, his blown pupils fixated on Enjolras' still bleeding neck.  
  
"Enj how do I...what should..."  
  
"Vampire saliva has healing properties, remember?" Enjolras helpfully supplies, still a little shocked that the newly turned vampire managed to stop himself all on his own. The surprise doesn't last long, replaced by tingling pleasure when Grantaire carefully licks over the puncture wounds. And then he's backing away again, all the way to the opposite side of the alleyway.  
  
"I'm..."  
  
"We should get you inside and wash all of that blood off." The blond says, cutting him off. Now isn't the time for talking. Grantaire obediently follows him out of the darkness and they silently walk all the way to Enjolras' apartment. He only realizes that the artist didn't follow him when he reaches the third floor. Right. Grantaire is still standing outside the door when he hastily makes his way down.  
  
"You can come in."  
  
"Thanks." Grantaire grins lopsidedly, his expression a strange mix of bitterness and relief. The blood drying all over his neck, mouth and clothes gives him a grotesque appearance. When they finally walk into Enjolras' living room he simply gestures towards the bathroom and the vampire disappears inside. There is a sound of running water. Enjolras is about to sink into his favorite beanbag when the door opens again and Grantaire emerges, dripping wet but not even remotely clean, with an apologetic expression. If it wasn't for the red drops falling on Enjolras' hardwood floors he would have found the whole scene endearing.  
  
"I um...I can't see if I'm washing it off or not."  
  
Enjolras wants to smack himself for forgetting. Of course Grantaire can't see himself in the mirror. He pushes the man back into the bathroom and picks up one of the face cloths near the sink. He hisses in surprise when he puts it under the tap. The water is bloody freezing. Grantaire looks at him curiously and Enjolras shakes his head.  
  
"It's nothing. Come over here."  
  
It takes only a few minutes to wipe off the blood off Grantaire's upper body. He's surprisingly still and silent, only moving once to pry Enjolras' hand away from his bicep. His fingers pause over the blond's pulse and then he's moving out of the bathroom again.  
  
"I think I'm clean enough now. Thanks. I'll just text Bossuet and be out of your hair."  
  
"Grantaire, don't be ridiculous. You can't go out looking like this. The man who turned you said he'd get you registered but he may have forgotten or given incomplete details or..."  
  
"Enjolras." Grantaire breathes out, face scrunched up as if in pain. "I still need to go. Thank you for everything but...yeah. I'll see you later. Don't worry your pretty head over me."

Enjolras is about to start protesting again but Grantaire is already out the door. It's only when the building front door slams shut that Enjolras realizes that the water is still running and that there's a bloodied hoodie lying on the tiled floor.  
  


As per Enjolras' request Combeferre calls a meeting the next day (Grantaire gets a text stating that he is welcome at the Musain, just in case). Enjolras is in the middle of explaining last night's events when the door of the cafe swings open. Grantaire is laughing with his head tossed back and his shoulders shaking. He looks much healthier and when Enjolras involuntarily scans his neck for last night's bite he's relieved to see that it has healed over and only has a small purplish bruise left over.  
  
Feuilly comes in right behind him and carefully closes the door after himself. Enjolras is about to grumble out a comment about them being late when he notices two small dots on Feuilly's neck, barely covered by the scarf that Bahorel knit him for father's day ("because if anyone is a father figure here it's Feuilly, don't be jealous Combeferre you're the best mom ever").  
  
What. The. Hell.  
  
"Good to see you're doing alright Grantaire."  
  
Grantaire grins at Combeferre, his slightly more pointed canines clearly visible above his lips.  
  
"Thanks, 'Ferre. I hope no one's planning on celebrating with garlic bread though."  
  
"That's a myth and you know it." Enjolras says through gritted teeth. It comes out harsh which wasn't his intention. But for some reason he's even more displeased with the two being late today. The artist meets his eyes for a second and lifts an eyebrow.  
  
"Well now that I can't consume alcohol at meetings I will surely remember it, chief." He smirks and walks over to Eponine who proceeds to poke at his neck and starts to whisper angrily about how he should be more careful and is an idiot. Enjolras finds himself agreeing.

The rest of the meeting goes on as planned. Joly confirms that Grantaire was correctly registered by the vampire who turned him and the general safety measures are repeated for the entire group, just in case.

Enjolras still feels uneasy for the rest of the evening.  
  


Everything goes back to normal. With the only addition of the fact that Grantaire is unable to be inebriated and Courfeyrac makes more vampire jokes than usual. Enjolras doesn't catch on to what's troubling him until he sees two more of the Amis sporting bite marks. Jehan is absentmindedly stroking theirs while sipping tea when Enjolras finally cracks.  
  
"Has Grantaire been drinking from you?"  
  
They blink up at him.  
  
"Well, yes. He has to feed somewhere. And we'd all rather not make him go drink at the blood donor clinic. It's not in the best neighborhood."  
  
"We?"  
  
Jehan gestures to the cafe and Enjolras frowns. Has it been not only Feuilly, Jehan and Bossuet then?  
  
"Right. Just be safe." Enjolras concludes and rises from his seat with some difficulty. Jehan looks a little confused and Enjolras has to practically run out of the room to stop himself from behaving even stranger than he already was.  
  


Two weeks after the incident Enjolras wants to smash the empty coffee mug standing on his table as he watches a giggling Courfeyrac emerge from behind the bar. Grantaire is wiping his mouth and running his tongue along his teeth in a way that really irritates Enjolras. Combeferre puts a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Are you alright, Enjolras?"  
  
"I'm fine. Just not particularly pleased all of my friends are being used like a buffet."  
  
Combeferre looks surprised.  
  
"We're all consenting to this, Enj. And you know that vampires can't satisfy their hunger very well with blood types that aren't compatible with them. He takes a little bit from all of us to compensate."  
  
Enjolras grumbles in response. But at least he's no longer tempted to destroy his only remaining mug.  
  


That doesn't last.

It takes about three more weeks. He's in the middle of a conversation about important e-mails with Combeferre when the door creaks open and Grantaire's curly head pokes in.

"I'm terribly sorry to disturb, but can I borrow Combeferre for a while?"  
  
Before Combeferre can reply Enjolras cuts him off:  
  
"No. And we need to talk about this Grantaire. I've been patient but this is getting out of hand."  
  
"Enj..."  
  
"Combeferre, would you please leave us alone for a moment?"  
  
His friend lifts his eyebrows, unimpressed, but doesn't comment. When the door softly closes behind him, Enjolras turns towards Grantaire.  
  
"You've been extremely uncaring and inappropriate. I understand very well that your blood type causes a limitation on how much you can ingest but you've taken blood from every single member. This is ridiculous. Just because they're your friends doesn't mean you get to abuse that."  
  
"I don't force them to do anything, Enjolras. The bite is relaxing for most. No one except you has told me I was out of line."  
  
Grantaire frowns and defiantly crosses his arms. He has the same look as when he's debating with Enjolras about the topic of the day during a meeting. Enjolras feels a shiver go up his spine.  
  
"And I haven't taken from every single member. Since that night I haven't taken from you. I don't see why you're complaining." Grantaire continues. And then he narrows his eyes.

Enjolras quickly interjects:  
  
"I'm complaining because I need them to be at their best. Not drugged up on vampire saliva."

"That's not what this is about. Is it? It's about me not taking any from you. You...want me to?"  
  
Enjolras inhales slowly and grips the edge of the table. He tried not to dwell on it. Not to think about why his reaction is so out of character for him and so sudden. But it isn't sudden. At all.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The answer seems to surprise Grantaire as much as it surprises him. The artist moves away from the wall against which he was resting and moves towards the table. They're standing face to face and Enjolras can feel his face reddening and heating up under the fixed gaze of the vampire.  
  
"Were you jealous, Apollo?"  
  
"Don't call me that!"  
  
Grantaire smirks. But then his smile fades and he steps away.  
  
"It's not like I didn't want to, you have no idea how good you tasted that night."  
  
"Then what's the goddamn problem, Grantaire?"  
  
"That's exactly the problem. You tasted so bloody good, pun intended. I'm scared I won't be able to stop."  
  
Enjolras puts on his best unconvinced expression.  
  
"You stopped very well that night. And just after you turned. That takes an incredible amount of willpower."  
  
"So surprising I know."  
  
Grantaire sounds bitter. He sinks into the chair Combeferre was sitting in and puts his head on the table. His voice is muffled when he asks:  
  
"Do you have any idea why I'm even able to control myself around you? Usually I don't. But this is a matter of your safety and I wouldn't fuck around with that, Enjolras."  
  
"Well, I hope you care about all of us and our safety..."  
  
"That's not what I'm saying."  
  
Grantaire lifts his head. He looks pale and tired, the lack of blood clearly taking its toll on him. Enjolras feels bad for stalling but he's felt shitty about the whole situation for over a month and he wants them to sort it out already.  
  
"I don't want to hurt you. But you're irresistible. I don't get to be that close to you, ever. Why would me being a vampire change any of that? I can get the blood from other people. So let me. Don't give me your blood only to block me out all over again when I don't have to feed. You're not a fucking meal to me, Apollo."  
  
Enjolras can't help but stare. This sounds as much of a love confession as he's ever gotten and it makes his heart pound like mad in his chest. Grantaire must smell it on him because he groans and closes his eyes.  
  
He's been holding back this entire time.  
  
For him.  
  
Because he...  
  
"I was jealous. I didn't understand why you didn't approach me even though I was your first feed. I thought that we'd become closer. Hoped that we'd become closer."  
  
Grantaire is looking at him again, eyes wide and pupils blown. Enjolras feels his entire body heat up but doesn't look away.  
  
"I'm in love with you, Enjolras. Just so we're clear."  
  
The blond nods and takes a step forward.  
  
"Only drink from me. Just me. I want to be enough."  
  
Grantaire's eyes twinkle warmly, in contrast with his pale cold face and he smiles.  
  
"Alright, come over and feed me then. No take backs."  
  
Enjolras sinks into his lap almost automatically. Grantaire's lips tickle his neck right above the spot where he bit him the first time. But he's still hesitating. Enjolras whines impatiently and grinds his hips into Grantaire's. He feels a little ashamed to be this hard already in anticipation from the bite when Grantaire seems to be unresponsive, but reminds himself that he needs blood in order for anything of the sort to happen.  
  
"Enj, I was joking though. You can say no and I'll back off."  
  
"Damn it all, R. I want you to take my blood and then take me, claim me against this table, fuck me already. I've been wanting you for too long so stop hesitating. I'd rather have you suck me dry than to have you avoid me like that ag..."  
  
His speech is interrupted by the the smooth slide of fangs into his neck, exactly in the same spot. Enjolras gasps and presses against the vampire's chest. If the first time around he tried to control himself, this time he has no trouble letting go. He's lost in the sensation of Grantaire humming against his skin in pleasure, the gentle rubbing of his fingers down his ribs, how his curls tickle Enjolras' jaw. He barely notices when Grantaire withdraws.  
  
The vampire chuckles and runs his thumb over the bite mark.  
  
"Concentrate, Apollo. You said something about a table didn't you?"

Enjolras may have a giant crush on an impossibly annoying vampire.


End file.
